Discovery of Suppressed Emotions
by OreoF.T.Cookie
Summary: Sherlock has never been one for emotions, so imagine his reaction towards his new-founded feelings towards his flat mate. But will he ever learn John, also, has feelings for him as well? Why does Mycroft want to help John? Adventures filled with unexpected romance and drama is on the way! Rating might go up later. JohnLock with a dash of Mystrade. First fic!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hello fellow Sherlock fans! **

**I am new in writing Fanfiction so as you probably guessed, this is my first fic ever! **

**I am sorry if the title's name is bad, I'll work on improving my writing skills! **

**I hope I will have more opportunities to write more JohnLock! Writing this was super fun and I really love this couple. I also like Mystrade, so expect that as well!**

**Constructive criticism is very much appreciated!~**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from Sherlock.**

* * *

'_Today was a bloody terrible day_' John thought to himself bitterly as he walked into his flat. While walking in, John saw Sherlock pacing in the living room back and forth in deep thought.

Well, it seemed that way…

"John! I'm bored!" Sherlock complained as he slumped on his couch with a small pout on his face.

"Yes, I can see that. Lestrade doesn't have any cases for you?" John enquired with interest.

"He does but, he does not want to keep relying on me for every single case, so he insisted his team complete it by themselves! It is madness John! They obviously cannot solve _anything_ without me. Why would they _deprive me_ like this?" Sherlock ranted on and on but John wasn't really paying attention, he was absorbed in Sherlock's devilishly handsome facial feat-

'_Wait, wha-? Devilishly handsome? Where did that come from_?'

John felt his face go a little red as he noticed Sherlock stopped his rant and was staring questioningly at John with those amazing-colored eyes. John felt Sherlock analyzing him, and John knew Sherlock was going to figure out what John was feeling before he, himself, did. When Sherlock finished deducing John, he gracefully rose from his bent position, and strolled into the kitchen.

John blinked a couple of times trying to make sense of everything that just happened a few moments ago.

'_I thought for sure he would have found out. Maybe, he thought I was stressed from work..? But, that's impossible! Sherlock is the most intelligent person I know, how could he no- oh that's right. He is not capable of having feelings.'_

John, who was satisfied with his conclusion, relaxed a little knowing Sherlock doesn't know the exact emotions John was feeling.

"John, would you like some tea?"

John looked up in surprise. Usually, _he_ is the one who asks if _Sherlock_ wants tea.

"Um, yes. Yes that'll be splendid. Thank you."

As Sherlock returns to the kitchen, John goes into his own 'Mind Palace'.

'_I guess that's why everyone thinks we're a couple…'_

When Sherlock returned to the living room, he saw John on his favorite chair with a thoughtful expression.

"John, I made the tea."

John looked up at Sherlock confused for a moment until he remembered what Sherlock just said.

"Thank you, Sherlock."

"You are welcome." Sherlock said as he put the tea down next to John on the table, and laid down on his favorite couch in that 'praying' position that he says 'stimulates his massive intellect'. The thing is Sherlock only does that when he is thinking about a case or _anything_ he's having difficulties with. That is quite odd.

"Sherlock, are you alright? Do you need help with something?" John asked with his tone laced with concern.

"Hm? Yes, I am quite alright. I do require silence as I need to approach my situation with caution. It is for an experiment I am currently conducting. Please do shut up."

John looked a little offended but, it's Sherlock he's dealing with so he was, for the most part, used to this behavior. So he bid his farewell to his silent flat mate, and headed off to bed.

As John slipped in under his covers, he pondered about the feelings he encountered earlier with Sherlock. Surely, he could not have fallen in love with his _'High-Functioning Sociopath'_ friend right? _'It is unheard of but what else could have explained these emotions I only feel with women? Why Sherlock though?' _Those were the last thoughts John had before he drifted into the oblivion of sleep.

* * *

**AN: Well I have tried my best! It isn't the best but it's not bad, right? I'm sorry it's short! I'll try and write more in the next chapters!**

**Please review and leave any suggestions for the next chapters that _will_ be uploaded soon!**

**Thanks!~**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Hello again! I got so many views for my very first story, and for that, I am very grateful. As a thank you gift, I made this chapter longer! **

**My thanks goes to my new followers and to Serenityofthematrix, RainyDays-and-DayDreams, and MischievousWolf66 for reviewing the first chapter. **

**This chapter contains some fluff. Also, in this chapter, Mycroft comes in! Let's see what he has to say, huh? XD **

**To all the Sherlockians out there, please review and leave your comments about the story. :3**

**By the way, could someone explain to me what a Beta-Reader is? I saw it somewhere and one of my friends suggested it. Thanks! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters.**

**Happy reading!~**

* * *

John woke up hearing a loud crash of glass, silverware and a loud swear from downstairs. Normal people would have been filled with dreadful terror, paralyzed on their bed waiting till their hearts stopped hammering in their chests to go and explore what had happened, but Sherlock and John are not your average people.

John let out a huff of annoyance, as he rose out of the comfort of his bed, and went downstairs to see what Sherlock has done to start off this day.

When John entered the living room, he saw Sherlock on the floor picking up pieces of broken glass _without any_ form of protection on his hands. What really caught John's attention was the newly formed wound that has formed on his right forearm. Sherlock's blood was oozing out slowly but heavily onto the kitchen floor.

Mrs. Hudson is not going to be happy.

"Sherlock, what the bloody hell are you doing? You have no protection whatsoever to be handling broken silverware! Are you even thinking about your actions? Sherlock at least get up so I can patch up that bloody nasty cut."

John rushed to Sherlock's side, and grabbed Sherlock by his un-injured arm, and led him to the restroom gently.

When they arrived, John immediately started to wash off the blood and then left to retrieve his First-Aid kit. John came back with Ibuprofen and a glass of water. Sherlock immediately consumed them, and John set out to work.

As John was stitching Sherlock's wound, he noticed Sherlock was starting to drift to sleep.

"Sherlock stay with me, alright? We can't have you falling asleep!" John exclaimed when he saw he got no response from his intellectual friend.

John finished rapping up Sherlock's forearm, and stared at Sherlock with a look of pure uncertainty.

'_How the hell am I going to get him out of here?' _John thought with a frown on his face.

As John was thinking, Sherlock leaned unconsciously on John's shoulder.

John pressed pause on his thoughts as he slowly turned and his eyes landed on John's flat mate's sleeping form on his shoulder. John's face was being tickled by Sherlock's curly jet black hair. It took all of John's being to_ not_ embrace his friend and lean on his head or inhale Sherlock's luxurious scent.

'_How can I even think about doing that to my asexual flat mate? I must be going mad!'_ John jokingly thought to himself with a small chuckle. John was hesitant on moving from his position, but eventually decided against it. Sherlock never gets sleep and there could be a risk of waking him if John makes an attempt to get up and _carry_ Sherlock to his room, so the only option left was to stay and enjoy this moment.

Besides, John didn't want to interrupt whatever Sherlock is dreaming about. He looks so peaceful and has a warm smile on his face. It's not every day you see this side of him. So John fell asleep on Sherlock's curly hair with a small smile.

* * *

When John woke up, he realized he was in his room, on his bed. John was starting to think the scenario that occurred was just one of his fantasies, but then Mycroft came in with his usual creepy smile.

"Hello John, how are you of this morning?" Mycroft smoothly questioned while walking over to the side of John's bed with his umbrella clutched by his side.

"I am… well. How is Sherlock?" John was very curious as to how he got in his room without waking up. Usually, John is a light sleeper. How odd.

"Yes, Sherlock is currently in his room with Anthea. She injected him with some Ibuprofen and has made sure my dear brother will not gain consciousness anytime soon. I am aware of Sherlock's condition. Please do not worry." Mycroft reassured John.

John was not convinced.

'_The bugger probably drugged him.'_

"Do you honestly believe I desire to take such horrid actions upon my brother? I see this is necessary for his health to improve, wouldn't you agree, Dr. Watson?" Mycroft challenged John with an expression of glee, knowing he has won this discussion.

'_Damn, the bugger got me there.' _John disdainfully realized.

"Yes, I agree." John admitted disappointedly.

"Splendid, shall we go to where Sherlock is?"

John perked up at this, and instantly sped down the stairs, into Sherlock's room while Mycroft watched the scene unfold with an amused gleam in his eye.

When John dropped in, he noticed Sherlock was, as Mycroft said, unconscious lying on his bed rapped in purple covers, his left arm laid limply on his side while his right arm was resting over his chest with a neat bandage wrapped around his wound. Sherlock's curly hair seemed a little more untamed than usual but it made him look like a young child, especially since his facial features are relaxed. His expression was not like earlier though. The one he wears now is calm and it demeanors quite nicely on his usual stern face.

Sherlock is breathtaking.

John forgot there was guests at the moment as he stepped towards Sherlock's side, raised his hand towards his sleeping flat mate and rested the palm of his hand on Sherlock's cheek having the warmth of his face crawl into John's hand, slowly creeping up his arm giving John heavenly chills. John, then, moved his hand up into Sherlock's curly jet black hair to try and tame the fuzz that threatened to curl around John's slim fingers. John was going to lean his head against Sherlock's forehead however a sudden cough snapped John out of the trance like state he was under as he jumped back from Sherlock's side as if he shocked him.

"It seems you have gained feelings for Sherlock. Though I cannot say I am surprised as I have expected this for quite a while. How does it feel Dr. Watson? To have feelings for someone who is devoid of any emotion. Dr. Watson I know you are aware of this but you have made a dramatic change in Sherlock's life. You have shown Sherlock that he is capable of having feelings once again." Mycroft calmly deduced as he strolled into Sherlock's room and took his place besides Anthea who, John surprisingly forgotten about was currently texting on her Blackberry mobile non-stop.

"Oh, well um, yes I'm aware of him being vulnerable… Moriarty made that quite clear."

John could have sworn he saw Mycroft wince at the name.

"Yes, well Dr. Watson, this little chat has been nice but, I have to head to my office now. I am running late for a very important government meeting."

Mycroft suddenly appeared in front of John and whispered, "If you hurt Sherlock, you will be sanctioned to cruel punishment. Are we clear?"

John looked up at Mycroft shrinking a little under the intensity of his stare. John shifted his feet before he answered.

"Yes we are." John confirmed with a nod.

'_Incredible. After all the years I have spent in war, seeing dead bodies hit the floor and friends have their heads blown off, I still cower under an intense stare. How pathetic of me.'_ John sulkily thought to himself after Mycroft nodded in approval and left the flat.

'_Now'_, John looked back at Sherlock's sleeping form. _'I'm all alone with him again. When will he wake up?' _

John awkwardly sat down next to Sherlock and before he knew it, he nodded off.

* * *

When John woke up, he was once again, lying on his bed. John laid there for a few minutes and tried to collect his thoughts.

'_How the hell do I end up on my bed? Is this all a dream? Am I undergoing inception, or something?' _John rushed out of his bed with the intent of getting some answers but what he got instead was Sherlock who was bright eyed and bushy tailed.

"Good afternoon John. Lestrade recently texted me information on a new murder case. Isn't this thrilling? Let's go." John had no chance to say anything as Sherlock rushed by him and went outside to hail a cab. John huffed in annoyance for being ignored and followed soon after.

While in the cab, John was thinking about the myriad of questions rolling in his head that he desperately wanted to ask Sherlock, but John didn't know if he should ask lat-

"If you are wondering about this morning, I injured myself while conducting one of my experiments."

"But you were using silverware… What could you possibly be experimenting on with silverware? You didn't have any cases at the time, so it couldn't be for a case... Do you mind filling me in?" John was genuinely confused as to what Sherlock was up to.

Sherlock turned his head towards John and looked at him with… uncertainty?

'_How do I explain this to John?' _Sherlock pondered for a moment.

"You are certainly improving on observation. I made an attempt to make you breakfast."

John gawked at Sherlock as if he grew a second head.

'_He did that for me?'_

"But what brought this on all of a sudden?" John asked quickly.

Sherlock didn't answer as the cab pulled over at Scotland Yard. Sherlock got out and left John to pay the cabbie. John hurriedly paid the money and went to his flat mate's side and entered the building.

"Hello freak." Sally spat out.

"Ah Donovan, it's nice to see you too. How are things with Anderson?" Sherlock sniffed the air and gave Sally a mocked confused face.

"Strange, I don't smell his deodorant on you anymore. How odd." Sherlock smirked as he walked passed her heading towards Lestrade's office.

"Piss off!" Sally yelled after him with a frown stuck to her face as she sped walked away.

John wanted to laugh but he bit it back. There's always time for that later.

"Sherlock, John! Finally you guys are here. We haven't got any leads, so we had no choice but to call you in." Lestrade explained with a look of relief and disappointment.

"Good afternoon DI Lestrade." Sherlock greeted before rushing to the table with eager eyes that roamed all over the place deducing information that was given to him.

John walked over to Lestrade and continued to watch Sherlock work his magic.

'_I wish he'd work his magic on me.'_

John's eyes widened in shock.

'_Why the bloody hell am I having these thoughts now?'_

John slapped his face in hopes he would snap out of it.

It didn't work.

It only gave him a confused Lestrade and a Sherlock who gave him a quick amused glance and went back to looking at the leads.

"John… Did you just slap yourself?"

John looked at the confused detective inspector who was staring at John with concern.

John quickly tried to gain his composure.

"Huh? Oh um… I saw a fly." John lamely explained.

"Okay then,… so are you going to explain what happened to Sherlock's forearm or am I going to have to play Sherlock and try to deduce it?" Lestrade jokingly asked. John could tell Lestrade was trying to change the subject, and for that, John was grateful.

"He got that while…" John looked towards Sherlock for some type of sign as to what to say . Sherlock looked up and mouthed, 'experiment'.

"Conducting one of his experiments." John quickly explained.

"Ah, so Mycroft was right." Lestrade mumbled to himself.

John paused then gave Lestrade a curious look.

"Excuse me? Mycroft?" John asked.

At this point, Sherlock silently joined the conversation.

"Yes John, our friend Lestrade is in a relationship with Mycroft. It's quite obvious really." Sherlock stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

John slowly glanced over to a now red-faced Lestrade.

* * *

**AN: Good? Bad? **

**I hope I didn't mess up on anything.**

**Pretty please with a cherry on top!**** Let me know what you think! **

**Have a nice day!~**


	3. Chapter 3

**AU: Hi everyone! I have finally returned! Yay!**

**I hope you all haven't been waiting for long! I am, once again, exploding with happiness for all the views I've received! Not only views, I gotten some more reviews, followers, and even people who Favorited my story! Thank you all so much! XD  
My thanks goes out to: RainyDays-and-DayDreams, RepTheKing, AussieTayla, highonchocolatecake, ****MischievousWolf66, tosinadekunle, and Serenityofthematrix for reviewing and EJBRUSH1952, MischievousWolf66, and highonchocolatecake for favoriting my story!  
Really guys, this means _a lot_ to me! :D**

**School is really getting to me. I've received so much homework, it's not even funny! But, I know I'm not the only one out there struggling, so let's do our best, yeah? :D  
**

**Anyways, this chapter contains a bit more Mystrade than JohnLock for those fans out there! I wanted to give you all a treat!~ **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of the charecters.**

**Enjoy~**

* * *

"Bloody hell, Sherlock." Lestrade ran his hand through his hair in embarrassment.

"Lestrade, you are being serious?" John wearily asked. John didn't think he wanted to know the answer.

"Yes! I'm seeing Mycroft, alright?! Jesus, enough about me, Sherlock what information have you found regarding the case?" Lestrade asked with a growing blush.

Sherlock was silent for a moment and it got John concerned.

"Sherlock, what is it?"

Sherlock looked up from the documents and said the most unexpected reply.

"Moriarty."

John and Lestrade gawked at Sherlock with blank faces.

"Pardon? That bloody bastard has been dead for years now! Why would _he_ be brought back up? How would he have survived?" Lestrade lashed out in anger and confusion.

Sherlock stepped up to Lestrade and whispered in a smooth deep tone, "Because I survived. Surely you didn't think a man with an abundance of power would have collapsed that easily?"

There was an awkward silence until John's phone went off. Sherlock and Lestrade looked at John with a questioning glance as John fumbled with his phone for a bit before he glanced at the screen and mouthed, 'Sarah'. Sherlock nodded and John went outside the room to take the call. When John left the room, Lestrade gave Sherlock a curious and frustrated glance, and then sighed.

"Now explain to me, how is Moriarty behind all of this? This isn't his usual style. What are you going on about? " Lestrade interrogated with a hint of concern in his voice.

"Look at these pictures closely. What, in these images, stands out to you?"

Sherlock went to the table to retrieve the pictures and handed them to Lestrade. Lestrade glanced confusedly over to Sherlock before he started to scan the pictures once again. One picture contained a middle-aged man splattered on the ground in an alley, and another picture showed a young business man dead on a roof with blood pooling around the back of his skull and a few bruises here and there. The last picture, however, got Lestrade thinking. The last picture had a young lad that was dead at a local park, but that wasn't what caught Lestrade's attention. It seemed like the boy was trying to defend a bird, but the bird had its head cut off and was limply lying on the palm of the young lad's hand.

"Sherlock… These pictures-!"

"Yes, do you understand the message, or shall I tediously explain what it is for you?" Sherlock tiredly sighed.

Lestrade paced around the room, angrily running his hands in his hair and letting loose a string of muttered curses. "The bloody nerve of that- How could he- WHY would he use a young lad?!" Lestrade was enraged.

Sherlock gave his best _'are-you-seriously-fretting-over-this'_ face to Lestrade. Lestrade noticed the look and flagrantly glared at him.

Lestrade rushed over to where Sherlock was currently positioned, and tightly gripped his collar. "Sherlock, you can't honestly be this brutal. The poor lad was a _child_! He had a family who loved him!"

Sherlock scoffed and forced Lestrade's rough grip off of his now wrinkled collar.

"So, you pity this child, hmm? What about all the other children being brutally beaten or murdered in this world? Are you going to pity them too? Are you going to, somehow, help them all? Children die constantly. There's nothing you could do about it, so please do drop this subject, and let's move on to why we are supposed to be here, shall we?"

Lestrade twitched as he considered to not restrain himself from punching Sherlock square in the face, but decided against it.

Sherlock was right.

As much as he hated to agree with something so harsh, he knew it was true.

"Alright, explain what the photos mean." Lestrade groaned as he saw Sherlock's expression lit up and he knew Sherlock was going to go into his 'deducing' mode, but to his surprise, he didn't.

"Well let's wait till John comes back, shall we?"

* * *

When John left the room, he looked at his phone in disbelief.

'_Why is that git calling me, and how the bloody hell did that tosser get my phone number?'_

Well, he couldn't tell Sherlock it was actually _Mycroft_ calling. What else was he supposed to say?

John held the phone in his hands for a couple of seconds before he pressed the accept button and mentally prepared himself as to what Mycroft has to say.

"Hello?"

"_Good afternoon, John. I assume you are aware of my relationship with DI Lestrade, yes?"_

John's eyes widened in shock as he scanned the area for any surveillance cameras.

'_Bloody hell, this is Scotland Yard! Of course there's going to be cameras!'_ John mentally kicked himself and as he was doing so, he almost didn't catch what the government official had to say next.

"_If you are speculating that I used the surveillance camcorders to eavesdrop, then you are mistaken. I know how DI Lestrade is with keeping his emotions in check. Sherlock is the one who saw through him and most likely made a rather straightforward comment, I presume?"_

John gawked at his phone's screen.

'_Well, he is a Holmes. I should be used to this already.'_

"How did you- never mind. Yes, you are correct. Is this all you wanted to call me for if so, I can resume this conversation at a later time."

"_I apologize from straying from the main topic. I would like to make a proposition."_

John's attention perked up at this and his forehead scrunched up in confusion.

"I'm sorry, a proposition?"

"_Yes, but this proposal should not be spoken over the telephone as it is very unprofessional. I will send a car for you later, do you understand?"_

John scratched the back of his head with his free hand.

"Yes. I understand."

"_Splendid. I shall see you soon." _

Mycroft hanged up, and John stared at his screen for quite a while until his hands got stiff.

'_What kind of proposal does he want to make? I don't know why, but I feel like this has to do with Sherlock and I…' _

John exhaled and leaned his head on the wall feeling awfully zonked. John then pinched the bridge of his nose to make the incoming headache more bearable, and made his way back to the room.

* * *

When John got there, he was somewhat anxious because he noticed it wasn't as noisy as it usually is. John knocked on the door before walking in. The first thing his eyes laid on was Sherlock who was currently sprawled on Lestrade's desk with an angry Lestrade demanding him to remove his arse from his desk.

"Sherlock, _get off_ my bloody desk right now! Oh Christ, please let John come back soon- John! Please tell Sherlock to get off my desk!" Lestrade pleaded.

John was about to ask Sherlock to move but it seems like there was no need to.

"John!" Sherlock exclaimed in relief as he _finally_ hopped off the desk and when to get the pictures to give to John.

John looked over to Lestrade with a grin on his face. "Well, that was easy."

Sherlock came back and handed the photos to John.

"John, look at these and tell me what is significant about them." John skimmed through the pictures given to him and paused for a long time.

"John, are you alright?" Lestrade noticed John's face consumed by effusive grief.

"Hmm?… Oh yes, I-I'm alright. The pictures represent the day Sherlock and, I'm assuming Moriarty, faked their deaths, am I about right?" John asked silently.

"Yes, but you didn't understand the last picture? Honestly John, I thought I taught you better. The last picture consists of symbolism! Is it nice not being able to think like me? What are birds known to stand for?" Sherlock raised his eyebrow towards Lestrade. Lestrade was thoughtful for a moment before he widened his eyes in realization.

"Birds represent freedom! So that bloody twat is just showing off his freedom?" Lestrade exclaimed to the duo.

"Of course, that _is_ how he is. So I assume that is all until a new murder is committed." Sherlock didn't really make it sound like a question; it was more like an assertion.

"What do you mean? You can't figure out his whereabouts?" Lestrade demanded as Sherlock was headed towards the door.

"These murders were only to announce his return. He is surely in the mood for more games, so keep us updated." Sherlock peered at John and nodded his head in the direction of the door. John got the message and they left. While walking in the hallways, Sherlock was wondering why John was so affected by the pictures.

'_I can't comprehend John's feelings. Why is he distressed by my fake death? Does friendship require a vast amount of emotion for one another? Or, is there something stronger than friendship between us...' _

Strangely, Sherlock wasn't disgusted at the thought. He was just happy that someone like John has chosen to have him as a flat mate, partner, and friend.

'_If I were to enter a relationship, it would be with John and no one else.'_

Sherlock stopped walking and quickly entered his 'Mind Palace'. Many thoughts, questions and even unfamiliar emotions unexpectedly entered his head at an extremely fast rate, but one word kept repeating itself:

'_What?'_

John noticed Sherlock halted and turned to look at him.

"Sherlock, are you alright?"

Sherlock's eyes were moving from left to right as if he was reading invisible text only he could see, his hands were clenched together tightly, beads of sweat started to form on his forehead, and his breaths were now in short gasps as he started to collapsed to the floor.

John could recognize those symptoms anywhere.

Sherlock was going into shock.

"_Sherlock!"_ John quickly went to his side and grabbed him by his waist before he fully crashed onto the floor. John gently sat down on the floor and used his knees as a pillow for Sherlock's head. Sherlock looked off colour as his eyes were sealed tightly and his whole body was shaking as he inhaled and exhaled heavily.

'_What caused him to react this way though? He was fine earlier…' _John pondered before he heard two pairs of feet approaching rather quickly.

"John, what happened? We heard you shout, are you alright?" Lestrade asked while gasping for breath. John glanced up to see Lestrade and Anthea following not too far behind with her hands being occupied with her Blackberry once again.

"I'm fine, but Sherlock isn't." John gestured towards Sherlock's unconscious form. Lestrade's eyes widened and he crouched down to analyze him for a moment before turning to John.

"Do you know what caused him to collapse?"

John stole a glance at Sherlock to consider if his condition is severe or not.

"I believe he went into shock, but he will be fine soon."

Lestrade expression was completely baffled. "Why did he go into shock? Was he drugged?"

John gently rested his hand on Sherlock's curly head. "That's what I would like to know…"

Lestrade registered John's choice of gesture for a minute and came to a startling conclusion. "Bloody hell… You have feelings for Sherlock, don't you?" Lestrade silently asked John.

John gave Lestrade a sad smile. "Yeah, is it obvious?"

Lestrade had the urge to comfort his friend, but Sherlock was an important matter at this moment. Lestrade was about to whip out his cellphone to call Mycroft, but a strong hand from behind him stopped him from doing so. Lestrade was bewildered before he glanced at the person who has held him captive and quickly turned away with a raging bush forming on his face.

"M-Mycroft, I was just about to ring you!" Lestrade squeaked out in embarrassment.

"Yes love, which is why I stopped you from accessing your mobile. Anthea texted me as soon as she found out about my poor brother's condition. Some of my men will be here shortly to retrieve him, however John."

John looked up to Mycroft with his forehead scrunched in confusion.

"Yes?"

"We have an agreement to discuss, do we not?"

'_Oh yes, the unknown proposition he wanted to discuss. It better not be anything extreme.'_

"Um, yes. I believe we do."

Lestrade looked a little reluctant about letting Mycroft go, but then Mycroft squeezed Lestrade's hand in reassurance. Lestrade got the message and went to Sherlock's side to take care of him. Sherlock was currently shivering and drenched in sweat. Lestrade noticed this and went to retrieve a blanket for him. He reappeared with an orange blanket and cloaked it around Sherlock's vulnerable form.

"My dear, may we use your office? I assure you we will not take long." Lestrade's facial features bloomed into a bright pink color at the words '_my_ dear', and nodded.

"Excellent. Anthea, will you wait outside until my men arrive? Thank you, now let us go John."

Mycroft grabbed his umbrella that was presently sitting in the corner, and waltzed into the office with John trailing behind. John closed the door, sat on a chair, and patiently waited for Mycroft to begin.

Mycroft walked over to the window, set his valuable umbrella to the side, and looked at the city below. People were rushing home after a long day at work to go home to their families and the city lights made the people seem like blurry shadows roaming in all sorts of directions. It appeared that the city lights illuminated stronger than the stars because, on this night, they were not visible. Mycroft swiftly drew out a few documents that were neatly tucked in his inner pocket and presented it to John.

John un-folded it and read through it carefully. As John was examining the content, Mycroft got comfortable in Lestrade's chair and entwined his fingers together and clarified what the documents basically stated.

"What you see before you is an agreement that you, Dr. John Watson, will abide by at all costs, do you understand? What you are required to do is just to help Sherlock and to be there for him."

John raised his eyebrows and then he scrunched them up in total confusion.

"I'm sorry, what? I already do. You of all people should be aware of this."

Mycroft shook his head.

"I am aware, but I want you to protect him from his emotions. Now, I do not mean he cannot have any emotions at all. Simply just make certain that they do not consume him. He's been devoid of any pure emotion; I could barely imagine what he is experiencing at this moment. Sherlock obviously collapsed for that sole reason: The new emotions granted to my younger brother were too overwhelming for him to handle. In return, I would be more than willing to pay you a pretty penny for your cooperation."

John held a look of pure concern as he gradually shifted his attention from Mycroft's determined face to his lap. John was clearing his thoughts, trying to formulate what his response should be for the intellectual government official. Then, John sharply rose his head to look straight into Mycroft's eyes.

"Certainly, I will do whatever I can to assure Sherlock's safety, but I don't want you paying me to do so. I'm doing this, not because you asked me to, but for Sherlock's sake. I, especially, don't want charity from you. I'm sure Sherlock wouldn't approve if I accepted." John and Mycroft chuckled at that.

"Yes, I believe so. Sign the form, and we will be on our way." Mycroft handed a pen to John and he swiftly signed his name on the signature line, and handed the documents to Mycroft.

"Marvelous." Mycroft neatly folded the document and tucked it neatly in his inner pocket. "Do you mind if you stepped out? I apologize but I have to make a few business calls before I could join you all. Please explain this to Lestrade."

"Sure, I'll go and check if they have picked up Sherlock as well." John nodded and proceeded to leave the room.

* * *

Mycroft sat in silence for a while until he let out a groan of frustration. Unknown to John and Lestrade, there was a microphone and speaker clipped unto Mycroft vest, which was heavily concealed by the dark color of his vest, which seemed to perfectly camouflage the wires that were wrapped around his large form. Mycroft pressed the button on the transmission to turn it on.

"I assume you are satisfied?"

There was a bit of static before a recognizable voice in a sadistic tone answered back.

"_You have done rather well My, the game has just begun! ~"_

* * *

**AN: Dun, dun, DUN! XD**

**I hope I didn't mess up! I was trying to use British slang and other words that I wasn't familiar with! If I messed up on anything at all, please be considerate and let me know.  
**

**Thank you all for reading and please don't forget to review and/or leave any suggestions! :D**

**Have a nice day!~  
**


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